


Un caffè caldo per ogni mattina

by KittyHawke



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-09-03 19:51:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20272426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyHawke/pseuds/KittyHawke
Summary: Every person was born with the first words their soulmate would say to them written in gold above their hearts, allowing them to know the moment when they would meet their other half. At least that was the idea. In practice you were lucky to get one that wasn’t so vague as to be useless.





	1. Chapter 1

As a teenager, a crowd of people shouting his name had been Ermal’s greatest dream, worth ignoring his mother’s calls for breakfast. Now that it had become reality, the dream had slowly morphed into a nightmare. He stood on stage, his name echoing in hundreds of voices, drowning him out as he begged them to stop. He frantically scanned the faceless crowd. The strobe lights occasionally illuminated a face, but none were the one he wanted. His stomach was tight with stress when he woke and the reason wasn’t hard to find- his soul mark.

Every person was born with the first words their soulmate would say to them written in gold above their hearts, allowing them to know the moment when they would meet their other half. At least that was the idea. In practice you were lucky to get one that wasn’t so vague as to be useless. There was a certain lack of free will to it that didn’t wholly sit well with Ermal, but the romance was undoubtedly appealing. It didn’t stop him from having other relationships- he could never do that, it was part of life’s rich tapestry and being without love indefinitely was unthinkable- but it was nice to imagine that unconditional love was waiting for him, that somewhere on earth was the one person that his heart was made for, and that one day he would find them. Or rather they would find him, because Ermal’s soul mark was his own name.

It had long been a source of bewilderment to him. How could someone know his name on their first meeting? He knew no-one who had a mark like this. Despite how personal and private a soul mark was, he’d persuaded his siblings to share theirs when they were young. They both had complete sentences and clues- his sister’s strongly suggested a meeting in or around a train station; his brother’s was less clear, but implied some element of queue jumping was involved- but Ermal had one word and no indication of where or how this fateful meeting was supposed to take place.

He was interested to know how it might happen, but predictably, few people in his life had greeted him in such a way. There were a few times when a friend of his brother or sister identified him by name on their first meeting, but their greetings were typically not so blunt. The closest he’d ever come was when he met Marco. He’d introduced himself first and the other man had echoed his name as they shook hands. For a short time, Ermal wondered if he’d found his elusive soulmate. He wouldn’t have minded if Marco was the one as they got along so well, but after a few weeks of sharing a hotel room, he’d ventured to ask about his soul mark and discovered that Marco had “Hi, I’m Anna” helpfully tattooed on his chest. Furthermore, he’d already met his Anna via an online dating website. She lived in New York. That was Ermal’s first indication that meeting his soulmate might only create more complications as opposed to solving them.

Fortunately Ermal was not a princess in a tower, watching life pass him by as he waited to be found. He had other interests, other loves, and the greatest of them was music. He started out writing and singing in his teenage bedroom before bring his passion to karaoke nights at bars, birthday parties and wedding anniversaries, the streets, and finally the recording studio and the stage. The venues got bigger until the day he walked out at the Mediolanum Forum and saw the huge hall packed to the roof. There were more people than he’d ever seen gathered before, and they were all here for him. The crowd cheered upon seeing him and began to chant his name. Euphoria overwhelmed him, before he realised what was happening and felt a stab of horror.

Suddenly he had an idea of how his soulmate might find him. The problem was going to be finding them.

He had been searching crowds since then, both in reality and in his dreams. He didn’t sleep much anyway and this stress was robbing him of what precious slumber he did get. Marco had bought a white noise machine for him in hopes of helping, but Ermal still got most of his sleep on the bus, when the rocking motion made it impossible to stay awake. This morning, after another sleepless night dreaming about yesterday’s concert in the Palazzo dello Sport and attempting to recall every face in the front row, he had been lulled again by the gentle clinking of crockery and hiss of boiling coffee in the Starbucks around the corner from their hotel.

“Does it matter if you don't find them?” Andrea asked, no doubt trying to be helpful. “You can't miss what you've never had, right?”

Andrea had never made any effort to find his soulmate. He said that he didn't want to be tied down and lose the freedom to choose his own partner, which was reasonable, but after a few drinks he could be made to admit that he felt he'd lost his chance. He had no shame about changing his shirt in front of them, so Ermal had seen his words- “Do you want to build a sandcastle?”

“Besides,” Andrea went on. “It's better to dream than find out your soulmate is a teenage girl.”

“It wouldn't be a teenage girl” Ermal mumbled into the table. Andrea gave no indication of having heard him. “And we're touring right now,” he added. “If it is a concert goer, they might not live in Milan and it might be better not to...”

“Hang on, long distance relationships are possible” Marco interrupted.

“Alright, but if they already know you through your music, how could you have a relationship? It would be too asymmetrical.”

“Not if they faked ignorance” Dino said.

Ermal raised his head from the table with effort, and squinted at his friend. “What?”

“That's true,” Andrea remarked. “Just because they were at your concert doesn't mean you couldn't meet them in a different context and have a more normal first meeting.”

“You could meet them at a signing” Emiliano suggested, and Ermal wondered how this conversation had turned into a band-wide speculation on his love life or lack thereof.

“In fact, it might not be someone at a concert at all,” Roberto said. “There could be other contexts where someone says your name first.”

“Name one” Ermal challenged.

“Interviewers.”

“They typically say ‘Hi’ first, not just his name” Andrea said.

Ermal groaned and rested his forehead on the table again. “You guys are all so unhelpful.”

“What about the way we met?” Marco asked. “Someone else could introduce you and they could echo your name.”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

An arm wrapped around him and he found his head resting on a soft shoulder. “This conversation is ridiculous,” Andrea declared. “You don't need some magical fairy bonding to feel happy. You have us, you have the fans, you have your family...”

“Of course I don't need it,” he sighed. “That doesn't mean it wouldn't be nice to have it.”

“Ermal!” He frowned, not recognising the voice, and looked up dazedly. He expected to see a fan somewhere, but instead his eyes focused on the barista holding up a coffee cup. The man was looking around for his customer and Ermal realised with a shock that he was incredibly good-looking. He had tanned skin and a short beard, messy dark hair and muscles that his uniform emphasised rather than concealed.

The barista looked around once more and frowned at the cup. “Tall latte?” he called.

Ermal stood to answer his summons and walked across the floor. The barista saw him coming and focused on him. He had dark eyes that looked like melted chocolate, and were just as inviting. The arms were decorated with tattoos in various styles, and his face was perfectly symmetrical with a cute button nose and full lips. It was fascinating to watch the details come into focus as he got closer. This man had been made by a creator who didn’t know when to stop, Ermal thought, one who had received a shipment of high quality ingredients and thrown them all into one person instead of sharing them.

This couldn’t be his soulmate. He could never be so lucky.

He was standing in front of the counter now, his mouth dry. The gorgeous barista looked back, a little confused, but smiling politely. “Tall latte?” he asked. Ermal heard an undignified croak emerge from his throat in response. It was time to speak, to say “Yes, that’s mine” and let the man get back to work. This was not his soulmate, it couldn’t be, and he couldn’t embarrass himself in public by spouting nonsense just to make himself memorable. He especially couldn’t embarrass himself in front of…Fabrizio, he noted, managing to get a look at the name badge. What a nice name. It instantly became one of his favourites.

“Are you alright, sir?” Fabrizio the barista asked concernedly. He looked genuinely worried, not merely impatient to get Ermal out of his way. Ermal had a sudden wicked thought that if he pretended to be ill, Fabrizio might take him outside or at least to a back room. He seemed like the type who would try to help. Ermal didn’t know how he’d made that judgement from 30 seconds of silent staring, but he had.

He attempted to speak, but another croak issued from his throat. He had to say something. “I saw a giraffe on the windowsill!” he shouted in a panic, and then lapsed into horrified silence. He could feel his cheeks burning as several people nearby turned to look at him.

The barista stared too, and then burst out laughing. Ermal thought he was about to cry. “Sorry, that’s my coffee” he mumbled, grabbing the cup and turning away.

“Wait.”

Fabrizio was following him, taking his arm to stop him. He didn’t pull or use any force. Ermal could have slipped away if he wanted to, but the touch alone was enough to stop him in his tracks. He kept his head averted in case Fabrizio saw the embarrassment on his face.

“Is it you?”

He turned slowly and saw excitement shining in Fabrizio’s lovely brown eyes. “It has to be you,” the barista insisted. “Who else would say that?”

“Do you…Those…” Ermal couldn’t finish his sentence. He covered his face in shame. Fabrizio had been walking around with those words emblazoned on his chest all his life? He must have thought his soulmate was a complete idiot!

“Hey…” Fabrizio lifted his hand away and held it. His skin was so soft and warm. Ermal was assaulted by visions of curling up to him on a winter’s night, a blanket over both of them, warmth absorbing through his skin. He felt sleepy even thinking about it.

“I’m Fabrizio” he said, pointing to his badge.

“I’m Ermal” he replied, lifting his coffee cup.

They grinned at each other like fools, momentarily forgetting that there were other people in the world, and it began to filter into Ermal’s brain that this was real.

“My shift ends in an hour. Do you have anywhere to be?” Fabrizio asked, and the hope in his face was too adorable for words.

“No, I’ll just be in my hotel.”

Fabrizio’s smiling eyes dimmed suddenly. “You’re not from Rome?”

“No,” Ermal heard his voice drop to a whisper. “I’m from Milan. I’m a singer. I was here to give a concert. I’m going home today.”

The bubble burst in an instant, cold reality coming to steal the heat that Ermal had accumulated from Fabrizio's touch and smile. He experienced a moment of resigned horror, realising that one of his fears had actually come to pass, and then consciously pushed it back. So this was how things were. He would simply have to deal with it.

“I'll give you my phone number” he said, and started casting about something to write it down on.

“Fabrizio, get back to work!”

A manager, identifiable by his crisp white shirt and lack of apron, was standing behind the counter with his arms folded impatiently.

“I found my soulmate!” Fabrizio called back, and the undiluted joy in his voice made Ermal wonder whether the other man had been hoping for this day as much as he had.

The manager gave a few claps. “Well done, now get back to work.”

“We'll share numbers later,” Ermal said, not wanting him to lose his job over this. “I'll stay here until you've finished.”

“Okay. I'll think of somewhere nice for us to go.”

The arrangement was made, but Fabrizio remained reluctant to let go of his hand. Before Ermal could ease free, or make a joke about it, the other man pulled him into a hug. Ermal stiffened in surprise. He was not a hugger- he had embraced perhaps five people in his life, and one of his parents wasn't on that list- so to receive such treatment from a man who was still a stranger was alarming. Just before he pulled away, however, the magic arrived.

He was completely encased by the other man's muscular arms, arms that could do some serious damage if they were inclined to, but he was being held so gently. This was a hug which said, 'You are safe, you will not be harmed, my strength is only for protection', and it was such an unexpected and wonderful feeling that Ermal felt tears come to his eyes. One of them must have landed on Fabrizio's skin because he drew back abruptly, completely mistaking the reason for Ermal's reaction.

“Is it too much? I'm sorry. I know we've just met. I have a tendency to move too fast. Please, stay. We'll go for a walk later.”

He was gone, speed-walking back to his station, before Ermal could tell him to stop, come back, do that again and keep doing it for the rest of his life. He felt shaky, and if he'd had any hope of keeping his heart safe from Fabrizio, it was now gone forever.

He returned to his friends on legs that felt barely able to hold him up, feeling as if the world was separated from him by a sheet of glass.

“I have never seen anything like that!” Andrea declared loudly, as soon as Ermal sat down. “You looked like there was some invisible thread holding you together. Hey, are you okay?” His friend peered anxiously at the tear tracks on his cheeks. “I thought this was supposed to make you happy.”

Marco caught his eye and smiled sympathetically. Ermal smiled back. “I’ll have to reschedule my flight,” he said. “I’m staying in Rome today. If all goes well, maybe I’ll be staying tomorrow too.”

“Call us and let us know,” Marco said. “I imagine we’ll see you again in Turin.”

Finally a huge smile broke out across Ermal’s face. “I can’t believe this is how it happened, after all the panic at the concerts” he admitted, playing with a pack of sugar.

“So you see, after all that stress, Cupid didn't let you down,” Andrea declared happily. “Love finds a way.”

“That is the cheesiest thing I've ever heard,” Ermal retorted. He looked across the room at a barista with unruly black hair and a huge sunny smile, energetically serving coffee. Fabrizio glanced over and his chocolate button eyes crinkled with delight upon catching Ermal's gaze. “But I think you might be right.”


	2. Le stringhe blu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but by popular demand, I'm back again with the Andrea resolution that was requested. Thank you Sari, Marjo, Julia, Lisa and Il Pescatore for your comments <3 I really hope I've done justice to our favourite puppy.

Andrea had just stepped into the hallway when the lights went out. He looked up curiously at the darkened bulbs and then went back into his apartment, trying the switch a few times before concluding that he had not escaped the power shortage. Maybe it was only the lights. He went into the kitchen and checked the display on the microwave. It was blank.

Oh dear, this wasn't good. He and the band were flying to Naples tonight for a concert and Andrea had already cut his departure time a little fine. He only had an hour to get across the city before their scheduled meeting time, or he would have Ermal to deal with. The timing of this power cut couldn't be worse. He looked out of the window and saw that all of Milan looked distinctly dimmer than usual. Was this really a city-wide thing, an actual blackout? Oh, that was just perfect!

He went back out to the elevator and pressed the button, but the light didn’t turn on to indicate that his request had been accepted. After five minutes of staring at the black digital display above the door, he accepted his fate. With a sigh of despair, he arranged his suitcase and instruments, and began to carry them down twelve flights of stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, already exhausted and having nearly flung himself down the last flight to end the ordeal, he emerged onto an eerily empty street. There were no people around, no street lamps and no illuminated windows in the buildings, and it was remarkable how much life a city lost when its lights went out. At any other time, Andrea would have enjoyed feeling like the last survivor of some unknown apocalypse, but right now, his only concern was finding a taxi.

He took out his phone and called one of the firms, but it cut off immediately. Ah, so they were also connected to the downed power source. There was nothing else for it then. He adjusted his load and started to walk. He had only reached the end of the street when luck gave him a boost, in the form of a taxi approaching from the left. Andrea ran to catch it and slapped his palm on the window, to the evident alarm of the driver.

“I need to get to the airport!” he called.

The driver lowered the window a crack. “The airport is closed. All flights are cancelled” he replied, and drove off.

By the time Andrea had climbed back up the stairs to his apartment, he wanted nothing more than to lie on the ground and melt into the carpet. In fact, he indulged himself in a few minutes of just that, but it was impossible to stay there for long. His fridge was empty, cleared out in the expectation that he would be gone this weekend, and his stomach longed for the food that it had been promised at the airport Pret a Manger. He was going to have to journey to the nearest supermarket for some snacks and a torch to see him through this dark, lonely night.

He wasn't the only one to have that idea. The supermarket was packed with panic-buying shoppers. All of the good battery-operated torches were already gone, but Andrea was able to find one powered by a crank, so that would have to do. Any burglars would surely rethink their intentions if they heard the loud whirring of a plastic handle coming towards them. There was also one twelve-pack of water left at the bottom of the shelf which he quickly laid his hands on, realising too late that he would have to haul it around the shop as he collected the rest of his supplies.

His supplies amounted to two extortionately priced sandwiches in plastic boxes, a single apple and a packet of biscuits. It wasn't much, but it would get him through the night, and most importantly none of it would need refrigerated. He made his way to the cash desk, to find that there were six people with full baskets ahead of him and only one cashier. He sighed and placed the water bottles on the ground while he waited.

“Excuse me?”

He looked back curiously. The person behind him was a woman with long, dark brown hair and striking blue-grey eyes which were currently fixed on him, leaving no doubt that she was addressing him. She gestured to the pack of water by his feet.

“There’s no water back there,” she explained. “I think you have the last pack.”

“I think so” he agreed.

“Could I take a couple? I don't have any in my apartment.”

It was an unusual request for a stranger to make, but she seemed to know that, judging by her nervous and slightly defensive stance. “Yeah, sure,” Andrea said easily. “How many do you want? Four, six?”

She seemed surprised by his answer. “I'm not going to take half of what you paid for. Four should keep me going.”

“Well, I can’t open it now. Let me pay for it first and then I’ll give it to you.”

She nodded and the tension on her face melted away, replaced by a relaxed and relieved smile. “Thanks. I don't usually beg from strangers” she added.

“It'd be a very tough evening if you had no water,” Andrea answered. “I'd want someone to help me out too.”

She smiled again, her mouth curving up at one side and her eyes briefly closing. It was sweet and quirky, much like the rest of her. She was wearing a Breton top with a blazer and skinny jeans, a smart look at home on Milan’s fashionable streets, until one looked at her feet and noted the old Converse. She must have had them for a long time because the white laces had been replaced with bright blue. Andrea couldn’t help stealing a few glances at them, until the movement of the line forced him to give his full attention to the front.

He paid for his purchases and then moved only a few feet away, waiting for her to buy her own supplies. They weren’t much, only a loaf of bread and a jar of jam. As she handed her card over, he bent down and started pulling the plastic aside to free the bottles. He had three ready for her when she came over to him.

“Well, thanks again,” she said, kneeling to help him with the last bottle. “People are so friendly around here. I wasn't expecting that from a big city.”

“It's because you're a pretty woman” he said, too distracted to realise he’d said that out loud, until she threw her head back and laughed. “I admit that's a little disappointing, but I can’t complain if this is the treatment it gets me,” she remarked, and then offered her hand across the bottles. “I'm Sofia.”

“Andrea.” He shook it, and then started to feel his knees hurting from crouching, so stood up. Sofia did the same. “Are you a visitor to Milan?” he asked casually as he picked up his remaining water.

“No, I just moved here for work,” she answered, turning towards the exit as she spoke. “How long have you lived here?”

They were only vaguely aware that they were heading towards the exit together, but as they were now engaged in small talk, it was only polite to continue as long as they were walking in the same direction.

“All my life,” Andrea said, holding the door for her. “I was born here.”

“Oh, so you know your way around? Do you know how to get to Via Messina?”

Did he? A swift search of his memory banks confirmed that he didn’t, but he wanted to seem useful. “Take the 5 for two stops, get off and walk...I think it's a right at the coffee shop. I'm not sure where to go from there.”

“That's a start anyway. I have to do a dry run at the weekend. I'm starting my new job on Monday.”

“Exciting” he remarked.

“Sure, but also terrifying. I only arrived in the city on Wednesday.”

“Where did you come from?”

“Piedmont.”

He nodded, as his brain tickled at those pieces of information together. Sofia was a relatively common name, but Sofa from Piedmont? That was something a little more noteworthy. Of course it didn’t have to mean anything and it was highly likely that it didn’t, but once the thought was in his head, it wouldn’t leave.

“What city?” he asked.

“Asti.”

The name didn’t ring a bell, but then again, he was sure it had been somewhere a little more obscure. He couldn’t recall a single line of the address, but he surely would have remembered if it had been Turin. That was the city everyone knew.

“I'm supposed to be flying to Naples tonight,” he said. “All the flights are cancelled now.”

“Oh no,” Sofia’s face fell with genuine distress. “Is your holiday ruined?”

“It wasn't a holiday. I'm in a band and we were due to give a concert tomorrow,” he explained. “It's all a mess now. All those poor people getting disappointed.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

Andrea smiled, nodded, and paused to leave a suitable gap between topics. “Have you ever been to Naples?”

“No,” she replied immediately. “I know it makes me very prejudiced, but it's not a place I'd like to visit.”

He sighed, feeling his spirits slide more than he'd expected or than they had any right to. Thank goodness he hadn't said anything.

“I have been to Sorrento though” Sofia added. Andrea felt his heart jump, or maybe it was his stomach. Sure as hell, something jumped.

“When?” he asked, trying to sound only mildly interested.

“A long time ago. I was only eight.”

“Really? I went to Sorrento at that age too. It would be funny if we were there at the same time.”

Sofia stopped and looked at him. “This is going to sound very strange, but I did meet a boy called Andrea there. He was from Lombardy too,” she remarked thoughtfully. “Did you have a giant inflatable dinghy?”

“Yes. Did I try to take you out on it and you capsized it because you panicked?”

A light seemed to come on in her eyes. “Oh wow, it is you? Hi.”

“Hi again.” He was surprised by how excited his own voice sounded, and the smile he could feel forming on his face. It wasn’t such a big deal, but at the same time…it was. Sofia was grinning too. He wondered if he looked as happy. The pull on his cheeks suggested that he might.

“I can't believe we bumped into each other,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I know it was only two weeks, but I always wondered what happened to you.”

They had met on the stage at the resort, or at least that was where Andrea had first seen her. All of the kids had been forced onto the stage to dance to that summer's dumb holiday song, and they were the oldest kids present, towering over a crowd of toddlers. They hadn't spoken that night. They had seen each other, smiled and waved in solidarity, and Andrea had wanted to be her friend immediately.

He didn't know who approached who or what was said, but for the rest of the holiday, they were always running away from their parents to hang out together. The beach was right next to the hotel and sometimes they went down there, other times they went to one of the apartments to watch Scooby Doo and play Game Boy.

Looking back, it had been a remarkably intense friendship unlike the others Andrea had, to the point that their parents probably wouldn't have let them run off so much had they been ten years older. Embarrassingly, he'd shown off to his friends back home by saying he'd had a girlfriend, but it really had felt like that. At least, it had felt like an eight year's old idea of what a girlfriend was- no hand holding, that was disgusting, but a very close friend that he wanted to see all the time and missed terribly on the few occasions when he couldn't find her, who happened to be a girl.

Her family had left first and they'd said they would stay in touch. Andrea's father even offered to bring him to Piedmont for a visit if they missed each other too much, but of course that had never happened. There had been no further contact and they'd forgotten each other, but even as a teenager, Andrea would occasionally think about her and feel an ache in his gut as if he missed her. It was bizarre that a friendship that had lasted only a fortnight had stayed so long in his memory.

“Did you get my letter?” Sofia asked, bringing him back to the present.

He frowned. “What letter?”

“Do you remember at the end of holiday, we exchanged addresses and said we'd keep in touch? I wrote a letter to you and never got a reply.”

There was the faintest accusation in her voice, the barely remembered ghost of an eight year old who had eagerly looked forward to the post every day until she realised nothing was going to arrive. Andrea couldn’t believe his ears. She’d written a letter? She’d actually kept her promise? That was more than he’d done. He felt a bit ashamed of himself.

“I didn't get a letter,” he admitted. “We moved house when I was nine. I must have lost your address. Sorry.”

“It's fine,” Sofia waved his words away with a flick of her hand. Her bracelets jangled with the movement. “It's good to see you now. We should meet for coffee and have a catch-up sometime.”

“Definitely. In fact,” he added, taking a risk. “My weekend is looking pretty empty right now, so if you're not busy...”

Sofia looked at the grocery bag in his hand, and then at her own, and flashed a mischievous smirk. He wondered how many other smiles she had. It would be nice to find out. “What about a sandwich and water picnic?” she suggested.

“There's a park just up the street.”

“Lead the way.”

They continued talking non-stop as they walked, first sharing and comparing memories of the holiday on which they'd met, and then filling each other in on their lives up until the present day.  
By the time they reached the park, they were already fully caught up, but that didn't stop them from having their picnic and talking some more. They discovered similar tastes in books and movies, and had a fully-fledged debate about the antagonist’s motivations in a story they had both read. They talked about pets and discovered that they were respectively a cat and dog person, but hamsters were beloved by both. The one area in which there was no compromise was the beach, as Sofia was a sun worshipper who hated water and could barely swim, unlike water baby Andrea. She had nearly drowned twice in the span of a year, once while she was in Sorrento, and he remembered her panic in the dinghy with a little more understanding.

Moving on to present concerns, and taking his role as a guide seriously, Andrea gave a run-down of Milan's best bars, restaurants, nightclubs, cinemas, theatres and takeaways with the unspoken offer to show them all to his new friend. It was tough to be alone in a new city, but now they had each other's phone numbers and wasn't it convenient that there were only three stops on the metro between their apartments? They should absolutely hang out again when Andrea came back from his concerts. In the meantime they could talk on the phone, share stories from their respective workdays. It would be nice to have someone to talk to in the hotel room while his friends were busy Skyping their people.

It was becoming very dark by the time they stopped conversing long enough to notice, and brought their picnic to a close.

“It was really nice to see you again, Andrea.”

“You too.”

They were both hovering at the entrance to the park, strangely reluctant to go their separate ways, even though there was nothing left to say. Well, perhaps there was one thing, and Andrea opened his mouth a couple of times before managing to make his voice work.

“Can I ask an odd question?”

“Sure.” Sofia looked at him eagerly. He looked back, his voice deserting him again. Once the words were out, there was no taking them back, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with that. He needed more time. He needed to think about whether this was really what he wanted.

“Never mind,” he declared, before any spur of the moment decisions betrayed him. “It's nothing. Hopefully the lights come back tomorrow.”

“Hopefully” she agreed, casting a doleful look at the unlit street lamp beside them.

“Not a great introduction to Milan, I know. This isn't typical.”

“Good to know,” she nodded. “Anyway, I won't hold it against the city. I have a good feeling about this place.”

Her smile now was sweet, her head slightly tilted and her eyes intently focused. After a second it turned small and shy, and she shuffled her feet backwards. “I'd better go.”

She turned and walked away. Andrea watched her back until he couldn’t see her anymore. That girl had a lot of smiles, he thought, and he liked them all. He pulled out his phone and typed the words he'd felt unable to say aloud.

-I'm sorry to ask this and you don't have to answer, but I'm curious: What is your soul mark?-

He looked at the text for a moment and then deleted it. Asking about a soul mark was far too forward for a first meeting, and he didn't want to seem desperately lonely. He was a single-but-proud who didn't want the complications that a soulmate brought into your life, if watching his friends was any indication, ignoring the fact that he owned a book called 'Sand Art for Beginners' because he'd half-hoped the cashier would say something about it. Nobody needed to know about that.

Besides, it didn't matter what her soul mark was. He didn't need a set of words to decide who he wanted to know. The bond from childhood was still present, faded by time, but perfectly preserved and ready to be regenerated. Andrea's gut told him not to lose it again.

As he walked home, even when he tried hard to remember the poor disappointed Neapolitans and the lost income from the cancelled concert, he couldn't stop himself from humming. It was the beginning of a tune not yet known, not yet written, and slowly it formed itself around a word.

“Magari...”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
